Harry Potter and the Triumph of Blood
by BlakJeezis
Summary: First time, so summary is weak. Just started writing it on a whim, so I don't really know where it's going exactly. Post OotP, spoilers from all books, and I'm trying to stay as faithful as possible. Please R&R. Updates appox. once a week. Please enjoy.
1. Unexpected Visitors

**- All characters appearing in this tale, who have also been in any of Jo Rowling's books, belong to her not me. This story is for the enjoyment of everyone and I'm certainly not doing it for money. **

****

**- I'm gonna rate it 'R' but I don't think there's anything that deserves that rating yet. Who knows though, in the future there will be violence and maybe some naughty stuff.**

****

**- This is a continuation of the books, so expect spoilers. I'm going by canon as much as possible and am picking the story up where OotP ends. I'm pretty much making it up as I go, i.e. I don't have a plan for the story yet, so I'm not really sure what's gonna happen. Expect a lot of the usual cast, and some Aunt Petunia for good measure, this much I can tell you.**

Harry Potter and the Triumph of Blood

Chapter 1: Unexpected Visitors

It seemed to Harry as if the sky hadn't been clear all summer long. Not that he'd really even had any desire to look up and check. Since that day on Platform 9 ¾ of King's Cross Station, Harry hadn't had much desire to do anything at all. It wasn't until Uncle Vernon had slammed Harry's bedroom door shut and he was finally alone, really truly alone, that the enormity of what had happened during the final week of the school year had hit him. Since that moment, he'd spoken only four real words.

"Go away!" he had finally snapped at Hedwig during the last of her many attempts at cheering him up – at that she had bristled, hooted in a very offended way and flown out the window, well over a fortnight ago - and one night, in the dark, he had said his Godfather's name.

"Sirius." He'd whispered urgently into the silent night, his eyes closed tightly. He had saved up all his hope for a week before, wishing, praying that if he could put enough of it behind the name, then like a happy memory does with a Patronus, somehow all his hope and desire and heartache would call forth his Godfather, and when he opened his eyes Sirius would be standing before him with his mischievous smile. He didn't care that he would be expelled for doing magic outside of school. He would gladly give up life at Hogwarts to have Sirius back. He opened his eyes, positive that Sirius would be there. What he saw was his bedroom, empty and in shadow, exactly as it had been when he'd closed them.

The rest of his words hadn't really been words at all. Some were sobs, others cries of anguish and frustration. All aimed at one thing. He had killed his Godfather. The man who had spent twelve life-sapping years in Azkaban Prison and risked everything, even his very soul, to escape and save him; the man who would have taken him in and given him the closest thing to a father he could ever have known; the man who would of, and indeed had, given his life for him, was dead. And it was all Harry's fault.

As he had been doing all summer, Harry replayed the series of events in his head, trying to find the moment that disaster could have been averted. Why hadn't he used the mirror Sirius had given him? Why? Why? Why!?! All he had needed to do was look into it, call out his Godfather's name, and he would seen Sirius safe at Grimmauld Place, not being tortured in the Department of Mysteries. Everything could have been avoided, all the pain, all the suffering, Neville's nose, Ron and 'the brain', and Hermio . . Harry's breath caught in his throat. He had watched her fall, seen her die for all he knew at the time. That was as difficult a thought to live with as Sirius's real death. The sobs began again.

He reached under his pillow and pulled out Sirius's mirror. He saw the pale, tear streaked face with his mother's green eyes, shining and moist, looking back at him, and he hated it.

"Murderer," he whimpered, naming himself both culprit and victim. That was his fourth and final word spoken that summer on Privet Drive.

When he wasn't lamenting the death of Sirius, as rare as that was, Harry's thoughts turned to Aunt Petunia. Although he'd not talked to her all summer, brief flickers of interest would flame up when he would hear her padding along the hall carpet to slide his mealtime trays through the cat flap Uncle Vernon had installed in his door.

Now that he'd a had a year to think about it, when he had seen her fear at the mention of Voldemort's return, something had stirred in his chest, albeit briefly. It was a strange sensation, something Harry never expected to feel, and certainly had never been on the receiving end of in his time on Privet Drive. It was compassion.

He had seen in his aunt's eyes the pain and suffering he had often times seen in his own; the same pain he had felt in his heart on all those cold nights in front of the Mirror of Erised during his first year at Hogwarts. In that moment Harry and Petunia had connected; had been joined together in their grief over the loss of Lily; beloved mother to one, and at least at some point, in the distant, distant past probably Harry thought, cherished sister to the other.

Harry tried to imagine Petunia and Lily as children. Two little girls, one shorter with softer features and red hair, the other taller with a more angular face, giggling and playing in the sun. They would outfit their dolls and brush each other's hair; dress up as princesses and put on plays for Harry's grandparents.

What had happened, Harry wondered. What had so hardened his aunt's heart towards her sister? Before last summer, he had always just believed that it was his aunt's hatred for anything out of the ordinary that caused her to spurn his mother. But after seeing her face that day betray the love that was still inside her (Aunt Petunia and love - another first, Harry thought) no matter how deep she'd buried it, he knew there was something more to the story of Lily and Petunia's falling out. There had to be. If it was a simple case of prejudice and bigotry, as Harry had always assumed it was, Aunt Petunia would not have reacted in that fashion when given the news that her sister's murderer had returned. Add to that the fact that Aunt Petunia knew Lord Voldemort's name and what it meant . . .

This goes much deeper, Harry thought. He didn't at that point realize just how deep.

Harry jolted as he heard a loud _CRACK _in the street outside the house, the unmistakable sound of someone apparating. It was late; Dumbledore would never send anyone to the house at this time of night unless it was serious. He ran to the window to see who had just arrived. In the low light of the fingernail moon he saw a figure bent double, his hands on his knees. Slowly, the figure straightened up, favoring its right leg and turned towards number four. Harry could see, whoever this man was, he was also holding his ribs as he limped towards the door.

Why would someone who has been hurt come to me? I'm no healer, Harry thought as he quickly made is way across his room to the door. He stopped.

"Constant Vigilance, Potter!" He heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice in his head. He turned and went over to his trunk. Pushing aside his school robes and books, he fished around until he felt his wand. Now properly armed, he exited his bedroom and made his way down the stairs to the front door.

Through the door's mottled window, Harry could see the silhouetted figure slowly lurching forward across the street. Whoever it was, they weren't progressing very quickly. Could this be another trap? Voldemort had used this tactic against Harry before. His heart twinged as he thought of Sirius again, and Hermione's words echoed through his head

"You do have a bit of a saving people thing." She was right, and Voldemort had known it as well. That is why Sirius was now dead. Harry shook his head, trying to fight away the despair, and looked once more at the man now shambling up the driveway. It couldn't be a trap. Voldemort would never think of attacking Harry in this place. Dumbledore had told him, no matter how much he hated this house he was safe here. Not even Lord Voldemort's most powerful Dark Magic could get him while he lived under the roof of his mother's blood. Harry used this knowledge to steel himself, and just as the figure made it onto the front step, mere feet away from him, he swung open the door.

The man tried to say something, staggered two steps forward and fell to his knees. Harry looked down at him. The right, front part of his scalp was peeled back about half an inch from his forehead and blood pumped thick and scarlet from the wound into and around the enormous swelling of the man's right eye. Half of one of his ears was missing, and his nose was crooked at an ugly angle, obviously broken. His lower lipped was pinned in place, pierced by two of his bottom teeth, so when he tried to speak the result was almost comical. As the man struggled to get his words out, Harry saw through the red and brown mask of blood, both fresh and dried, and realized who he was looking at.

"Professor Lupin!" Harry gasped. A light went on upstairs.

"What is all that racket, boy!" Uncle Vernon had been awakened by Lupin's spluttering. Remus pitched forward and Harry caught him under the arms. He dragged his former professor in from the stoop and laid him on the hall carpet.

"What do you mean by it, boy?! What is this nonse – "Uncle Vernon stopped short halfway down the stairs, his tremendous jowls now purple and quivering with rage. Dudley and Aunt Petunia's heads popped over the banister. Harry didn't even look up at them, instead he quickly scanned up and down the street, closed the front door and went to tend his fallen professor. He rolled him onto his back. Lupin's one open eye seemed not to be focusing.

"Harry . . . He's coming . . . He's found a key . . . Get you to Grimmauld." Lupin's entire body shook as he coughed and a great spout of blood erupted from his mouth. This seemed to arouse him into greater consciousness, and he tried to get up. Moving from behind Lupin, Harry ducked under his left arm and pushed himself upward with all his strength, helping his teacher get to his feet. Now slouched against the wall, Remus looked down upon his best friends' son. How like them he looked.

"Lily . . . James . . . I've been doing my best; it's just so difficult without Sirius." Lupin was certainly looking at him, but Harry got the distinct feeling his professor wasn't seeing him.

"Those Demender thingys better not be back, boy, or I don't care what anyone has to say, you will be out of this house for good!" Uncle Vernon had finished tromping his way down the stairs and was rounding on Harry and Remus.

"What the devil is the meaning of this disturbance? Who is this and who does he think he is showing up here at this hour?" He poked at Remus' shoulder with one of his sausage fingers, apparently not noticing, or perhaps not caring about, the man's condition.

"Don't touch him!" Harry screamed. "Can't you see he's injured? Don't you care about anyone other than your fat son?!?" He re-seated himself under Lupin's shoulder and helped him limp, dragged him was more like, into the front room and onto the couch. Lupin moaned the whole way, trying unsuccessfully to speak, while Uncle Vernon just looked on in disbelief.

"Boy, I will not have any of your bloody lot cluttering up my house! And God help you if there are any stains left on my furniture." Uncle Vernon hovered in the doorway, unsure about the right course of action. Harry saw Aunt Petunia appear behind Uncle Vernon's shoulder. What little color she had rushed from her face and she gasped at the sight of Professor Lupin. Uncle Vernon turned just in time to catch her as she fainted.

"Harry," Professor Lupin murmured again, his head lolling backwards onto the top of the couch. "Harry, we must leave right now. Voldemort's found something. We have to get to Grimmauld Place. You must come with me. We have to go now."

"But Professor, I didn't think anyone could get me here. Professor Dumbledore said – "

As though hearing Dumbledore's name had touched upon some deep anger inside him, Professor Lupin's head rolled forward and his remaining good eye focused on Harry with an intensity that was scary.

"Dumbledore was wrong!" He started to get to his feet. "Harry, we must leave NOW!!"

Harry jumped. This was a different Lupin than Harry had seen before. He was no longer the patient professor who had calmly guided him through producing a Patronus. He was no longer the soft-spoken, kindly mentor telling him stories of his parents and his days at Hogwarts as a Marauder. This was a man fighting a war, risking everything day in and day out and fearing for the loss of his own life as well as the lives of everyone he cared about. Professor Lupin limped across the room towards the hall.

"Do you have your wand, Harry?"

"Yes."

"Good, then we will have no delays." He didn't even stop to look down at Aunt Petunia. He merely stepped over her prone body. Uncle Vernon looked fit to explode as he stood up to challenge Professor Lupin. So great was his anger that he could barely talk. His eyes narrowed and he hissed at Lupin. If he knew about Professor Lupin's affliction, Harry thought, his uncle would be a little less eager to confront him.

"Whatever you've done to my wife, you fix it. And then get out. Take the boy with you and never darken our doorstep again." Lupin turned on Uncle Vernon, his wand pointed directly at the corpulent man's heart. Harry saw a glint of the lycanthropic madness shining from within Lupin's eye.

"You never deserved to have Harry here, pig. James and Lily did not sacrifice themselves so you could ridicule and torment their son. He is a prince, a wonderful young man and you treated him like nothing, less than nothing. But you couldn't squeeze all of James and Lily out of him, could you? You have no idea the opportunity you missed to have a bright light in your life instead of filling it with that fat oaf who right now is cowering in a corner upstairs soiling himself. Ask your wife. She'll tell you all about the wonderful sister she had before she turned her back on Lily and James. She remembers; I know she does. I could and should stop your bloated heart right now in that hollow cavity you call a chest, Dursley, but I won't. I'll allow you every empty, lonely, miserable moment you have left in which to wallow."

Harry's mouth dropped open. Never, not even when he was talking about Voldemort, had he heard Professor Lupin speak with so much venom. He had little doubt that his former professor was fighting hard against the urge to kill Uncle Vernon. Perhaps it was his years of training, suppressing the wolf within, that staid his hand.

"Harry . . . the door." Professor Lupin backed away from Uncle Vernon, never once lowering his wand. "Check the street first."

Harry did as he was told. The street was clear.

Once outside and with the door closed behind them, Professor Lupin put his arm over Harry's shoulder and allowed him to carry his weight. It seemed Lupin had expended the last of his energy facing Uncle Vernon and getting Harry out of the house. When he spoke, it wasn't with the vicious tone that he'd used to back down Uncle Vernon, but rather the exhausted, tortured voice of when he'd first arrived at the house.

"Harry we have to get to Arabella's. We need her fire." Harry immediately knew what he meant. He had not yet learned to apparate, and he had a feeling that whatever had happened had been so sudden that a portkey being setup was out of the question. That meant they had only one option, they would have to use Mrs. Figg's fireplace to access the Floo Network.

Slowly they made their way across the street to the alleyway through to Wisteria Walk. Harry's mind raced with the possibilities of what may have happened tonight. As much as he wanted to, however, he didn't ask Professor Lupin. The moan he emitted with every step and his rattling, labored breathing told Harry his professor was better off not talking at the moment.

Once they had reached the alleyway, Harry started to slow down. Professor Lupin was growing heavier as he was steadily getting weaker and less able to support his own weight.

"No, Harry." More blood trickled out of Lupin's mouth; his voice was barely above a whisper. "Don't slow. He could be here any moment. I have to get you to safety."

"Who's coming, Professor?" Surely he couldn't mean Voldemort.

"Keep going, Harry. I'll try and explain." They kept on up the alley. "Voldemort is coming," Lupin continued with difficulty. "He discovered something, a key of sorts, in Godric's Holl – "

Professor Lupin was cut off by a series of loud cracks and pops that could only be one thing; more wizards were apparating onto Privet Drive. Harry stopped.

"You can't, Harry." Professor Lupin tried to tighten his grip on Harry's shoulder. "You cannot go back there. Never again. Dumbledore's magic has failed. Voldemort found a way past it in Godric's Hollow. It's no longer safe."

"But what about," Harry swallowed hard, "my . . . my family?" The words sounded strange to Harry's ears. "I can't leave them to Voldemort."

Lupin swore under his breath as he slumped against the brick garage that made up one side of the alley. Harry ran back to the Privet Drive end, and peaked out. He saw twelve black hooded figures, Voldemort's Death Eaters, had formed a semi-circle in front of the Dursley's house, beginning and ending at the garden wall. At the top of it, where the keystone would sit in an arch, there was an empty space. The Death Eaters all stood stock still, like statues, waiting for number thirteen, their Dark Lord, to arrive. Harry ran back to Professor Lupin, now sitting on the ground at the foot of the alley wall.

"We have to save them, Sir. We can't leave them to be slain."

"Harry, you are too important to risk on a rescue mission for them. Your mother and father gave up their lives for you; the Dursleys will have to do the same." Even with one eye, Lupin could see that Harry wasn't going for it. "If we go back there, it is certain death for both of us. I've done enough fighting tonight. I'm unable to do anymore. We have no choice. This, Harry, is war. Sacrifices must be made. I'm sorry. You're just too important to the cause." His breathing was becoming more and more labored. Harry knew he wouldn't last much longer.

"If I don't go back, Dudley, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia are surely going to die. If I do go, there's a chance I'll die, Professor Lupin will die, and they'll die anyway." Harry was talking to himself, pacing back and forth in front of his professor.

"Harry . . . you must understand. This is the way . . . it has to be."

"No!" Harry turned and looked down at Lupin. "I won't leave them to die. Not knowingly. I couldn't save my parents, I couldn't save Sirius, but I can save them."

"Then I'm sorry." Lupin raised his wand, "_Petrificus Total – _"

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry cried.

The force of Harry's spell blew Lupin's wand from his hand and banged his head against the bricks behind him. His good eye rolled in its socket and glazed over. Harry ran to his side and laid him down on the ground before he fell. He was still breathing.

"Too many people have died because of me already, professor. I will not have anymore. I'll be back."

"James, my old friend, I'm sorry. I couldn't save the boy." And with that, Professor Lupin passed out.


	2. Fight or Flight

**- All characters appearing in this tale, who have also been in any of Jo Rowling's books, belong to her not me. This story is for the enjoyment of everyone and I'm certainly not doing it for money. **

**- I'm gonna rate it 'R' but I don't think there's anything that deserves that rating yet. Who knows though, in the future there will be violence and maybe some naughty stuff.**

**- This is a continuation of the books, so expect spoilers. I'm going by canon and am picking the story up where OotP ends. I'm pretty much making it up as I go, i.e. I don't have a plan for the story yet, so I'm not really sure what's gonna happen. Expect a lot of the usual cast, and some Aunt Petunia for good measure, this much I can tell you.**

Harry Potter and the Triumph of Blood

Chapter 1: Unexpected Visitors

It seemed to Harry as if the sky hadn't been clear all summer long. Not that he'd really even had any desire to look up and check. Since that day on Platform 9 ¾ of King's Cross Station, Harry hadn't had much desire to do anything at all. It wasn't until Uncle Vernon had slammed Harry's bedroom door shut and he was finally alone, really truly alone, that the enormity of what had happened during the final week of the school year had hit him. Since that moment, he'd spoken only four real words.

"Go away!" he had finally snapped at Hedwig during the last of her many attempts at cheering him up – at that she had bristled, hooted in a very offended way and flown out the window, well over a fortnight ago - and one night, in the dark, he had said his Godfather's name.

"Sirius." He'd whispered urgently into the silent night, his eyes closed tightly. He had saved up all his hope for a week before, wishing, praying that if he could put enough of it behind the name, then like a happy memory does with a Patronus, somehow all his hope and desire and heartache would call forth his Godfather, and when he opened his eyes Sirius would be standing before him with his mischievous smile. He didn't care that he would be expelled for doing magic outside of school. He would gladly give up life at Hogwarts to have Sirius back. He opened his eyes, positive that Sirius would be there. What he saw was his bedroom, empty and in shadow, exactly as it had been when he'd closed them.

The rest of his words hadn't really been words at all. Some were sobs, others cries of anguish and frustration. All aimed at one thing. He had killed his Godfather. The man who had spent twelve life-sapping years in Azkaban Prison and risked everything, even his very soul, to escape and save him; the man who would have taken him in and given him the closest thing to a father he could ever have known; the man who would of, and indeed had, given his life for him, was dead. And it was all Harry's fault.

As he had been doing all summer, Harry replayed the series of events in his head, trying to find the moment that disaster could have been averted. Why hadn't he used the mirror Sirius had given him? Why? Why? Why!?! All he had needed to do was look into it, call out his Godfather's name, and he would seen Sirius safe at Grimmauld Place, not being tortured in the Department of Mysteries. Everything could have been avoided, all the pain, all the suffering, Neville's nose, Ron and 'the brain', and Hermio . . Harry's breath caught in his throat. He had watched her fall, seen her die for all he knew at the time. That was as difficult a thought to live with as Sirius's real death. The sobs began again.

He reached under his pillow and pulled out Sirius's mirror. He saw the pale, tear streaked face with his mother's green eyes, shining and moist, looking back at him, and he hated it.

"Murderer," he whimpered, naming himself both culprit and victim. That was his fourth and final word spoken that summer on Privet Drive.

When he wasn't lamenting the death of Sirius, as rare as that was, Harry's thoughts turned to Aunt Petunia. Although he'd not talked to her all summer, brief flickers of interest would flame up when he would hear her padding along the hall carpet to slide his mealtime trays through the cat flap Uncle Vernon had installed in his door.

Now that he'd had a year to think about it, when he had seen her fear at the mention of Voldemort's name, something had stirred in his chest, albeit briefly. It was a strange sensation, something Harry never expected to feel, and certainly had never been on the receiving end of in his time on Privet Drive. It was compassion.

He had seen in his aunt's eyes the pain and suffering he had often times seen in his own; the same pain he had felt in his heart on all those cold nights in front of the Mirror of Erised during his first year at Hogwarts. In that moment Harry and Petunia had connected; had been joined together in their grief over the loss of Lily; beloved mother to one, and at least at some point, in the distant, distant past probably Harry thought, cherished sister to the other.

Harry tried to imagine Petunia and Lily as children. Two little girls, one shorter with softer features and red hair, the other taller with a more angular face, giggling and playing in the sun. They would outfit their dolls and brush each other's hair; dress up as princesses and put on plays for Harry's grandparents.

What had happened, Harry wondered. What had so hardened his aunt's heart towards her sister? Before last summer, he had always just believed that it was his aunt's hatred for anything out of the ordinary that caused her to spurn his mother. But after seeing her face that day betray the love that was still inside her (Aunt Petunia and love - another first, Harry thought) no matter how deep she'd buried it, he knew there was something more to the story of Lily and Petunia's falling out. There had to be. If it was a simple case of prejudice and bigotry, as Harry had always assumed it was, Aunt Petunia would not have reacted in that fashion when given the news that her sister's murderer had returned. Add to that the fact that Aunt Petunia knew Lord Voldemort's name and what it meant . . .

This goes much deeper, Harry thought. He didn't at that point realize just how deep it really went.

Harry jolted as he heard a loud _CRACK _in the street outside the house, the unmistakable sound of someone apparating. It was late; Dumbledore would never send anyone to the house at this time of night unless it was serious. He ran to the window to see who had just arrived. In the low light of the fingernail moon he saw a figure bent double, his hands on his knees. Slowly, the figure straightened up, favoring its right leg and turned towards number 4. Harry could see, whoever this man was, he was also holding his ribs as he limped towards the door.

Why would someone who has been hurt come to me? I'm no healer, Harry thought as he quickly made is way across his room to the door. He stopped.

"Constant Vigilance, Potter!" He heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice in his head. He turned and went over to his trunk. Pushing aside his school robes and books, he fished around until he felt his wand. Now properly armed, he exited his bedroom and made his way down the stairs to the front door. .

Through the door's mottled window, Harry could see the silhouetted figure slowly lurching forward across the street. Whoever it was, they weren't progressing very quickly. Could this be another trap? Voldemort had used this tactic against Harry before. His heart twinged as he thought of Sirius again, and Hermione's words echoed through his head

"You do have a bit of a saving people thing." She was right, and Voldemort had known it as well. That is why Sirius was now dead. Harry shook his head, trying to fight away the despair, and looked once more at the man now shambling up the driveway. It couldn't be a trap. Voldemort would never think of attacking Harry in this place. Dumbledore had told him, no matter how much he hated this house he was safe here. Not even Lord Voldemort's most powerful Dark Magic could get him while he lived under the roof of his mother's blood. Harry used this knowledge to steel himself, and just as the figure made it onto the front step, mere feet away from him, he swung open the door.

The man tried to say something, staggered two steps forward and fell to his knees. Harry looked down at him. The right, front part of his scalp was peeled back about half an inch from his forehead and blood pumped thick and scarlet from the wound into and around the enormous swelling of the man's right eye. Half of one of his ears was missing, and his nose was crooked at an ugly angle, obviously broken. His lower lipped was pinned in place, pierced by two of his bottom teeth, so when he tried to speak the result was almost comical. As the man struggled to get his words out, Harry saw through the red and brown mask of blood, both fresh and dried, and realized who he was looking at.

"Professor Lupin!" Harry gasped. A light went on upstairs.

"What is all that racket, boy!" Uncle Vernon had been awakened by Lupin's spluttering. Remus pitched forward and Harry caught him under the arms. He dragged his former professor in from the stoop and laid him on the hall carpet.

"What do you mean by it, boy?! What is this nonse – "Uncle Vernon stopped short halfway down the stairs, his tremendous jowls now purple and quivering with rage. Dudley and Aunt Petunia's heads popped over the banister. Harry didn't even look up at them, instead he quickly scanned up and down the street, closed the front door and went to tend his fallen professor. He rolled him onto his back. Lupin's one open eye seemed not to be focusing.

"Harry . . . He's coming . . . He's found a key . . . Get you to Grimmauld." Lupin's entire body shook as he coughed and a great spout of blood erupted from his mouth. This seemed to arouse him into greater consciousness, and he tried to get up. Moving from behind Lupin, Harry ducked under his left arm and pushed himself upward with all his strength, helping his teacher get to his feet. Now slouched against the wall, Remus looked down upon his best friends' son. How like them he looked.

"Lily . . . James . . . I've been doing my best; it's just so difficult without Sirius." Lupin was certainly looking at him, but Harry got the distinct feeling his professor wasn't seeing him.

"Those Demender thingys better not be back, boy, or I don't care what anyone has to say, you will be out of this house for good!" Uncle Vernon had finished tromping his way down the stairs and was rounding on Harry and Remus.

"What the devil is the meaning of this disturbance? Who is this and who does he think he is showing up here at this hour?" He poked at Remus' shoulder with one of his sausage fingers, apparently not noticing or perhaps not caring about the man's condition.

"Don't touch him!" Harry screamed. "Can't you see he's injured? Don't you care about anyone other than your fat son?!?" He re-seated himself under Lupin's shoulder and helped him limp, dragged him was more like, into the front room and onto the couch. Lupin moaned the whole way, trying unsuccessfully to speak, while Uncle Vernon just looked on in disbelief.

"Boy, I will not have any of your bloody lot cluttering up my house! And God help you if there are any stains left on my furniture." Uncle Vernon hovered in the doorway, unsure about the right course of action. Harry saw Aunt Petunia appear behind Uncle Vernon's shoulder. What little color she had rushed from her face and she gasped at the sight of Professor Lupin. Uncle Vernon turned just in time to catch her as she fainted.

"Harry," Professor Lupin murmured again, his head lolling backwards onto the top of the couch. "Harry, we must leave right now. Voldemort found something. We have to get to Grimmauld Place. You must come with me. We have to go now."

"But Professor, I didn't think anyone could get me here. Professor Dumbledore said – "

As though hearing Dumbledore's name had touched upon some deep anger inside him, Professor Lupin's head rolled forward and his remaining good eye focused on Harry with an intensity that was scary.

"Dumbledore was wrong!" He started to get to his feet. "Harry, we must leave NOW!!"

Harry jumped. This was a different Lupin than Harry had seen before. He was no longer the patient professor who had calmly guided him through producing a Patronus. He was no longer the soft-spoken, kindly mentor telling him stories of his parents and his days at Hogwarts as a Marauder. This was a man fighting a war, risking everything day in and day out and fearing for the loss of his own life as well as the lives of everyone he cared about. Professor Lupin limped across the room towards the hall.

"Do you have your wand, Harry?"

"Yes."

"Good, then we will have no delays." He didn't even stop to look down at Aunt Petunia. He merely stepped over her prone body. Uncle Vernon looked fit to explode as he stood up to challenge Professor Lupin. So great was his anger that he could barely talk. His eyes narrowed and he hissed at Lupin. If he knew about Professor Lupin's affliction, Harry thought, his uncle would be a little less eager to confront him.

"Whatever you've done to my wife, you fix it. And then get out. Take the boy with you and never darken our doorstep again." Lupin turned on Uncle Vernon, his wand pointed directly at the corpulent man's heart. Harry saw a glint of the lycanthropic madness shining from within Lupin's eye.

"You never deserved to have Harry here, pig. James and Lily did not sacrifice themselves so you could ridicule and torment their son. He is a prince, a wonderful young man and you treated him like nothing, less than nothing. But you couldn't squeeze all of James and Lily out of him, could you? You have no idea the opportunity you missed to have a bright light in your life instead of filling it with that fat oaf who right now is cowering in a corner upstairs soiling himself. Ask your wife. She'll tell you all about the wonderful sister she had before she turned her back on Lily and James. She remembers; I know she does. I could and should stop your bloated heart right now in that hollow cavity you call a chest, Dursley, but I won't. I'll allow you every empty, lonely, miserable moment you have left in which to wallow."

Harry's mouth dropped open. Never, not even when he was talking about Voldemort, had he heard Professor Lupin speak with so much venom. He had little doubt that his former professor was fighting hard against the urge to kill Uncle Vernon. Perhaps it was his years of training, suppressing the wolf within, that staid his hand.

"Harry . . . the door." Professor Lupin backed away from Uncle Vernon, never once lowering his wand. "Check the street first."

Harry did as he was told. The street was clear.

Once outside and with the door closed behind them, Professor Lupin put his arm over Harry's shoulder and allowed him to carry his weight. It seemed Lupin had expended the last of his energy facing Uncle Vernon and getting Harry out of the house. When he spoke, it wasn't with the vicious tone that he'd used to back down Uncle Vernon, but rather the exhausted, tortured voice of when he'd first arrived at the house.

"Harry we have to get to Arabella's. We need her fire." Harry immediately knew what he meant. He had not yet learned to apparate, and he had a feeling that whatever had happened had been so sudden that a portkey being setup was out of the question. That meant they had only one option, they would have to use Mrs. Figg's fire to access the Floo Network.

Slowly they made their way across the street to the alleyway through to Wisteria Walk. Harry's mind raced with the possibilities of what may have happened tonight. As much as he wanted to, however, he didn't ask Professor Lupin. The moan he emitted with every step and his rattling, labored breathing told Harry his professor was better off not talking at the moment.

Once they had reached the alleyway, Harry started to slow down. Professor Lupin grew heavier as he was steadily getting weaker and less able to support his own weight.

"No, Harry." More blood trickled out of Lupin's mouth; his voice was barely above a whisper. "Don't slow. He could be here any moment. I have to get you to safety."

"Who's coming, Professor?" Surely he couldn't mean Voldemort.

"Keep going, Harry. I'll try and explain." They continued up the alley. "Voldemort is coming. He discovered something, a key of sorts, in Godric's Holl – "

Professor Lupin was cut off by a series of loud cracks and pops that could only be one thing; more wizards were apparating onto Privet Drive. Harry stopped.

"You can't, Harry." Professor Lupin tried to tighten his grip on Harry's shoulder. "You cannot go back there. Never again. Dumbledore's magic has failed. Voldemort found a way past it in Godric's Hollow. It's no longer safe."

"But what about," Harry swallowed hard, "my . . . my family? The words sounded strange to Harry's ears. "I can't leave them to Voldemort."

Lupin swore under his breath as he slumped against the brick garage that made up one side of the alley. Harry ran back to the Privet Drive end, and peaked out. He saw twelve black hooded figures, Voldemort's Death Eaters, had formed a semi-circle in front of the Dursley's house, beginning and ending at the garden wall. At the top of it, where the keystone would sit in an arch, there was an empty space. The Death Eaters all stood stock still, like statues, waiting for number thirteen, their Dark Lord, to arrive. Harry ran back to Professor Lupin, now sitting on the ground at the foot of the alley wall.

"We have to save them, Sir. We can't leave them to be slain."

"Harry, you are too important to risk on a rescue mission for them. Your mother and father gave up their lives for you; the Dursleys will have to do the same." Even with one eye, Lupin could see that Harry wasn't going for it. "If we go back there, it is certain death for both of us. I've done enough fighting tonight. I'm unable to do anymore. We have no choice. This, Harry, is war. Sacrifices must be made. I'm sorry. You're just too important to the cause." His breathing was becoming more and more labored. Harry knew he wouldn't last much longer.

"If I don't go back, Dudley, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia are surely going to die. If I do go, there's a chance I'll die, Professor Lupin will die, and they'll die anyway." Harry was talking to himself, pacing back and forth in front of his professor.

"Harry . . . you must . . . understand. This is . . . the way . . . it has to be."

"No!" Harry turned and looked down at Lupin. "I won't leave them to die. Not knowingly. I couldn't save my parents, I couldn't save Sirius, but I can save them."

"Then I'm sorry." Lupin raised his wand, "_Petrificus Total – _"

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry cried.

The force of Harry's spell blew Lupin's wand from his hand and banged his head against the bricks behind him. His good eye rolled in its socket and glazed over. Harry ran to his side and laid him down on the ground before he fell. He was still breathing.

"Too many people have died because of me already, professor. I will not have anymore. I'll be back."

"James, my old friend, I'm sorry. I couldn't save the boy." And with that, Professor Lupin passed out.


	3. Fight or Flight

Chapter 2 Fight or Flight 

Harry looked down at his fallen professor. He was alone once again. Unlike the rest of his summer holiday, however, now he had twelve Death Eaters and Voldemort to contend with. A grim smile crept across his face.

"It'll be a nice change. Be good to fight something other than my own thoughts for once." He breathed into the night air as he made his way to the end of the alley. His mind raced with possible strategies as he approached the corner. If only Hermione was here, Harry really wished he had her brain to pick. He reached the end of the alley and slowly poked his head out again. The Death Eaters hadn't moved, and Harry was relieved to see that Lord Voldemort had not yet arrived. He retreated around the corner once more, placing his back against the cool bricks.

"How am I supposed to get past twelve Death Eaters and Voldemort?" He whispered, beginning to wish he'd taken Professor Lupin's advice.

"Think, Harry, think!" What had he learned that would help him fight his way through thirteen of perhaps the most powerful wizards on Earth? When he'd been up against these kinds of numbers before, at the Ministry of Magic, he'd at least had the others with him. And if it hadn't been for Dumbledore, Voldemort would have killed him right there in front of the fountain. There was no way he could take on these wizards by himself, was there?

"Don't be a stupid git." This time it was Ron's voice in his head. He peaked out of the alley once more. Voldemort still had not arrived. There couldn't be much more time though. Harry had to get into the house and back out again, with the Dursleys, before Voldemort and his followers got inside. Speed was of the essence.

"Fast," Harry said. If only he had his broom. He thought of the time in the TriWizard Tournament that he had summoned his broom to get past the dragon. That's it! Harry gripped his wand. He knew he'd left his bedroom window open in case Hedwig returned; he just hoped he hadn't closed his chest after retrieving his wand. He stepped out from the shadow of the wall into the center of the alleyway, and focused all his thought on his father's gift to him.

"_Accio Cloak_!" He had tried to keep his voice low so as not to alert the Death Eaters, but not so low that the spell wouldn't have any power; he hoped it had worked. He peered around the corner once more. The Death Eaters appeared not to have moved, and Harry let out a sigh of relief. Straining his eyes, he focused on his bedroom window, looking for any glimpse of his cloak flying towards him. He hoped that in the dim moonlight, and because of their hooded masks, Voldemort's servants wouldn't be able to see it flying through the air.

He looked from the window to the shadowed group, his eyes flicking back and forth searching for signs of movement from either. Nothing. Harry's heart pounded in his chest and his breath sounded like thunder in his ears.

There it was! His cloak flew from his room out into the night air. He trained his vision upon the Death Eaters. None of them seemed to notice as the shimmering garment, translucent against the night sky, floated across Privet Drive and down to Harry's hand. Harry threw the cloak over his head, and after taking a last, quick look back at his professor, stepped out into the street.

Moving as quickly as he dared without giving himself away, Harry crossed to the Dursleys' neighbors' driveway. From there, he could hear the Death Eaters chanting in a low, continuous murmur. As he moved down the drive he tried to pick up on what it was they were saying, but was too far away to make it out. Once in the backyard and out of sight of the chanting Death Eaters, he risked removing his cloak and slowly, as quietly as possible, crept under and through the hedge as he had seen Dobby do four years earlier.

From the backyard, he could see into the Dursleys' dining room and kitchen. Uncle Vernon, still scarlet with rage, was stomping around the kitchen opening and slamming closed cupboard doors. Harry watched as he took a glass down and filled it at the sink. Dudley and Aunt Petunia were nowhere in sight, although Harry did see the light in his aunt and uncle's bedroom was on. Aunt Petunia was probably lying down trying to recover from her fainting spell.

He took one step out of the bushes onto the back lawn and a searing pain, as if someone was jamming a white-hot poker into his flesh, ripped across his forehead. He fell to the ground clutching at his scar, scraping his fingernails against his flesh like an animal trying to claw out some unknown pain. He bit his lip so hard in effort to quell his cries of agony that he felt his skin give way and his teeth sink into the soft meat just below the surface. Harry's mouth filled with the warm, metallic taste of his own blood.

Lord Voledmort had arrived and he was happy.

Harry could hear the chanting of the Death Eaters rise in both pitch and volume, faintly at first, but growing stronger. He looked towards the back of the house. His whole head throbbed; he had trouble standing; and his vision was blurry and doubled as if he'd lost his glasses. Staggering like a drunkard, he zig-zagged his way across the backyard. As he was about to step onto the patio, he realized that the chanting had stopped. Quickly he threw his invisibility cloak back over his head, and stumbled over to the back door. He crashed into it, and realized it was locked.

"_Alohamora_," Harry sensed his vision narrowing. The edges of his periphery were starting to go black, blotted out by the pain in his head. With a click, the door opened and Harry was inside. Over the sound of the TV coming from the front room, he heard a creaking noise like one of those old, wooden ships rocking with the waves while it sits in dock. He stumbled his way across the kitchen to the hallway, heading for the front room and Uncle Vernon. Once into the hall, he saw the source of the creaking. The front door bulged and Harry saw the stress cracks starting to form in the plaster around the hinges.

"What in the bloody hell is this now?" Uncle Vernon muttered. "If that's you playing around out there, Potter, I'll have your guts for garters!" He flung open the living room door. His eyes almost popped from their sockets when he saw what was happening, and he froze in the doorway. Harry shot past him, flattening himself against the opposite wall and made for the stairs.

"Run, Uncle Vernon! Out the back door." Uncle Vernon's eyes grew wider still as he heard Harry's disembodied voice. He ducked, frantically looking back and forth over his shoulder and at the ceiling, trying to determine the source of the warning.

"You have to get out now!" Harry called again. Uncle Vernon's eyes narrowed, as if realizing he was the punchline of a practical joke.

"Think you can scare me do you, boy? Well, I'll not fall for any of your parlor tricks." Uncle Vernon made forward, going to open the front door.

"No!" Harry cried and tried to stop his uncle from reaching it. It was too late.

The creaking had grown louder, first into a whine, and then a near scream as wood, glass, and mortar finally gave way. With a burst as if it had been hit with a rocket, the door exploded inwards, spraying Harry and Uncle Vernon with splinters of wood and shards of glass. Knowing who and what was on the other side, Harry took two steps up the stairs. Standing where the door had been mere seconds ago, was Voldemort his wand raised and behind him, two of his minions. The others had been left outside. Stationed, Harry assumed, on guard in case Dumbledore and the Order showed up

"Hello, Dursely." Voldemort hissed.

"Vernon, what's happening?" Aunt Petunia's head, once again popped over the banister. "Oh my God, no! It can't be. It can't be." Aunt Petunia stammered as she saw the Dark Lord stepping over her threshold.

"Yes, Petunia my dear, I'm afraid it is." His red eyes flashed up at her. "Tell me, Miss Evans." He smiled, an empty, cold, mirthless grin. Harry felt his nails digging into his palms. "Where is the boy?" The two Death Eaters behind Voldemort stepped forward into the house, filling the hall. Uncle Vernon backed towards the kitchen, stumbling over the carpet as Voldemort advanced on him. As quietly as he could, Harry continued up towards his aunt, stair by stair.

"I'll ask only once more, Petunia. Where is the boy?"

"B-b-b-but, Dumbledore said you couldn't – "

"Wrong answer. _Crucio_!" A jet of green light shot from Voldemort's wand and Uncle Vernon bellowed in agony. His great, ruddy face went ashen and his fat neck jiggled with the power of the spell. Voldemort relinquished his hold. Uncle Vernon whimpered; enormous tears rolled down his cheeks as he clutched at his chest gasping for air. Harry kept on up the stairs.

"I don't know where he is." Aunt Petunia sobbed. "Someone came, a wizard just a few minutes ago and took him." Voldemort turned on his followers and pointed to the larger one.

"You, continue with him." He gestured back to Uncle Vernon. "Petunia," he looked up again. "Where is he?" His voice was like honey.

"I t-t-told you-"

"_Crucio_!" The new Death Eater cast the spell on Uncle Vernon. Once again he screamed like a babe as his body contorted and writhed.

"Do you want him to suffer the same fate as your lovely sister, Petunia? How about your son? Shall he know the pain as well? Now," He commanded, "give me POTTER!" He screamed Harry's name; spittle flew from Voldemort's mouth as his rage mounted.

"Noooooooooooooooo!" Aunt Petunia cried out. "He's not here. I swear he isn't. Please. We don't know anything. Please!"

"If that is what you wish, then so be it." Voldemort smiled once more, ignoring Aunt Petunia's appeals, and pointed to the remaining Death Eater.

"Upstairs." The Dark Lord commanded over Uncle Vernon's cries of anguish, then turned, passed Uncle Vernon and his torturer and went into the kitchen. Harry reached the top of the stairs and the wailing Aunt Petunia as the hooded figure started his methodical climb. He grabbed her and pulled her into her bedroom, locking the door, and turning off the light. He could hear the Death Eater's feet on the stairs. Aunt Petunia sobbed, apparently unaware that some unseen force had shoved her into the darkness of her room.

Under the door, against the light of the hallway, he saw the shadow of the man's feet. Aunt Petunia's face was buried in her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her body trembled as Vernon's cries grew higher and higher into screams. He sounded like a hog at slaughter

"Where is he?" He heard Voldemort bellow from downstairs. Uncle Vernon's screams grew louder.

"_Alohamora_." The bedroom door clicked and opened a crack. Light spilled in from the hallway and the figure entered the room. He closed the door behind him. Harry readied himself for action. Beneath his cloak, he raised his wand. The figure advanced on the still sobbing Aunt Petunia. The air was thick with Uncle Vernon's cries. The Death Eater raised his wand.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry cried, as he threw off the invisibility cloak. The wand flew from the surprised Death Eater's hand, knocked him back a pace and blew the hood from his head. As Harry advanced, he recognized the shadowy outline of a large nose and long, straggly hair.

"Potter! Potter?!? What the devil do you think you're doing?" Professor Snape spat as Harry stopped, completely stunned.

"Snape . . . Snape?" Harry couldn't believe what he saw. His mind reeled. His feet seemed to have become rooted to the ground.

"Good God, you're going to get us all killed!" Snape swore as he gathered his hood and wand, trying to figure out his next move. Aunt Petunia had apparently gone into a state of shock. She seemed almost catatonic.

"You have exactly two minutes, Potter. Take her and get out of that back window. Get out of here as quickly as possible and get to Grimmauld Place." With no more to say, Snape turned and exited the room silently closing the door behind him. Harry heard him open the door to the next room. Almost instantly the sound of Dudley screaming filled Harry's ears. From below him, Harry heard the house being torn apart. Uncle Vernon and Dudley's screams rang out. His scar erupted again, and he started to cry.

"Snape!" He heard Voldemort screaming, almost frantic now, from downstairs. As though in reply, Dudley's screams got louder. Aunt Petunia's dead eyes stared straight ahead. Harry heard footfalls on the stairs. He ran to the bay window and threw open both sides. He beckoned Aunt Petunia to come, but it was as if she didn't see him. Uncle Vernon's screams and cries for mercy had stopped. With tears streaming down his face, Harry reached out and grabbed Aunt Petunia's hand. With all his might, he pulled her towards the window. Although she was as slight a woman as Harry had ever seen, she was dead weight, and he had to struggle to lift her. He sat her on the edge of the sill.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," Harry swished and flicked his wand, and prayed the spell worked. He pushed his Aunt Petunia backwards from the window. She dropped from sight, and Harry gasped. He looked over the edge and saw her floating softly downwards, as though she were a feather in Professor Flitwick's classroom. Harry pulled himself onto the sill, just as he heard Lord Voldemort reach the top of the stairs.

"Shit!" He whispered; "My cloak." He reached back for it as he heard Voldemort's voice.

"Where is he?!" Voldemort hissed; he was right outside the door. Harry climbed back onto the sill, and pushed off before he heard Snape's response, although he did hear Dudley stop screaming. Harry rolled as he hit the ground, and popped to his feet. Aunt Petunia lay, prostrate on the patio. Even with all his might bolstered by adrenaline, Harry still had trouble picking up his Aunt and putting her over his shoulder. With effort, however, he managed it and stumbled his way through back the bushes and into the neighbors' yard.

He risked a look back at the house. The light in Aunt Petunia's room had come on, and Harry heard Voldemort's hissing cry of rage coming from the window. He saw Snape and Voldemort's shadows dancing on the wall. Snape was on his knees, his master towering over him. There was a green flash, and Professor Snape's bloodcurdling scream pierced the night air. Harry took a last look and saw Snape's shadow contorting with the pain of the Cruciatus Curse.

Harry put his aunt down, and crept to the front of the drive. Upon hearing Snape's scream, the remaining Death Eaters had stopped chanting and were making their way into the house. This was Harry's only chance. He ran back to his aunt.

"_Ennervate_." Harry wasn't sure if this spell would work. Aunt Petunia's eyes blinked. She sat up and looked at Harry, confused. For a moment Harry panicked, realizing that his aunt was about to scream. Unable to think of anything else, Harry did something he never thought he would.

"_Imperio_!" He cried, casting the Unforgiveable Curse. His aunt's eyes glazed over again, but she remained upright.

"Okay," Harry wasn't sure how it worked, "follow me." He checked to see if his aunt was following; she was. He swiftly skulked around the neighbors' house and over to the alleyway where he had left Professor Lupin. Once there, he commanded Aunt Petunia to go and wait by his professor, and he peeked out of the alley again at the house.

He saw the Death Eaters coming out carrying three bodies: one was in black; that could only be professor Snape; the other two were obviously Dudley and Uncle Vernon. He saw his cousin and his uncle placed on the driveway. Voldemort exited the house, and went and stood over Harry's two fallen relatives. His wand glowed orange and both Uncle Vernon and Dudley's bodies rose from the ground. Voldemort pointed his wand up towards the side wall of the house. In unison, the corpses plastered themselves against the wall, their hands splayed out to their sides like two grotesque statues.

The rest of the Death Eaters, carrying Professor Snape, moved out into the street once again and Disapparated with a series of cracks. Now alone, Voldemort pointed his wand to the sky and summoned the Dark Mark. Under the green light of the skull devouring a snake, Voldemort walked into the street, and without a sound disappeared into the night.

Harry turned back to the two other survivors and made his way towards them. Professor Lupin was still unconscious, and Aunt Petunia had returned to her former state. Harry sat himself between the two fallen adults, pulled his invisibility cloak over the three of them, and placed his head in his hands. Before he knew it, the tears started to flow. His shoulders shook, and great wailing sobs came from his mouth. All his anger and sadness came spilling out.

He no longer cared. Two more people had died because of him. His family, as awful as they had been, was destroyed. It was only a matter of time until Voldemort got to him as well. A part of Harry wished that he would. Beyond the sobs, Harry heard a voice inside wishing that Voldemort would find him and kill him; end all the pain, all the sadness, all the loss. Harry would be reunited with his parents and Sirius. He wouldn't have to be 'the boy who lived' anymore.

Harry continued to cry. He didn't want to stop. He didn't want to do anything. He was just going to sit in the alley and wait for Voldemort to come and get him. Eventually he would find him and this would all be over.

Harry jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. A familiar voice spoke to him. It was gruff, but gentle.

"C'mon lad. It'll be alright. You done well."

Harry looked up to see the grizzled face of Mad-Eye Moody, his electric blue eye peering through the cloak. He got to his feet and embraced the ragged old man. He buried his face in Professor Moody's shoulder and bawled even more.

"No time to hang around crying, Potter. We've got to get to headquarters and sort this mess out." Harry nodded and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He heard Professor Moody mutter a couple of incantations and Professor Lupin and Aunt Petunia came around. Before she could say a word, Moody poured a vial of green liquid down Harry's aunt's throat. She appeared to be conscious, but complacent.

"Harry, you musn't go back there." Professor Lupin's strained voice pleaded.

"It's okay, Remus," Professor Moody assured him. "The fighting's over. Harry's safe. You look a mess though. Let's get to Arabella's and Floo to Headquarters, shall we?"

He put his hand out, and dazed, Professor Lupin grasped it and pulled himself to his feet. The four of them; Harry, Aunt Petunia, Professor Moody and Professor Lupin made their way down the alley and out onto Wisteria Walk.


End file.
